


Iron Loopholes

by Higuchimon



Series: Ways of Magic [3]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh, Yu-Gi-Oh DM, Yu-Gi-Oh Duel Monsters, Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Yu-Gi-Oh Pairings Contest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higuchimon/pseuds/Higuchimon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything has loopholes.  And there are fates far worse than death that are worth paying an arm to avoid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iron Loopholes

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit.

 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Duel Monsters

 **Title:** Iron Loopholes

 **Romane:** Otogi x Bakura

 **Word Count:** 10,753|| **Status:** One-shot

 **Genre:** Romance, Fantasy|| **Rated:** PG-13

 **Challenge:** Yu-Gi-Oh Pairings Challenge, Season 11, Round 3: Otogi x Bakura (Minorshipping)

 **Notes:** This takes place in the same world as the first two contest fics I did. I think this is building up to something, but even I don't know what.

 **Feedback:** All forms eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.

 **Summary:** Everything has loopholes. And there are fates far worse than death that are worth paying an arm to avoid.

* * *

All of Captain Mai’s crew kept quarters of some kind in the hidden city, even if they only used them for those few days out of the year when _Harpie Queen_ docked for repairs and resupplying. Some owned their own homes there, such as Mai herself, while others rented rooms or houses, depending on their needs. 

Bakura, still new to the crew, hadn’t yet chosen where he wished to lodge. He didn’t feel he needed to make a choice just yet, though. He still didn’t know how long he’d be with them. It wasn’t his decision to make. 

Cloak pulled over his distinctive white hair, he moved through the crowded streets, ignoring all the cries of greeting and shouts from merchants that flew back and forth through the salt-scented air. He needed to get out of sight and the sooner the better. 

This city boasted space enough for a good dozen pirate crews, not to mention the bandit and thief bands that frequented it. Far from being lawless, where anyone could get stabbed in the streets, it was likely safer than most of the major cities of the world. Bakura knew anyone he passed could defend him or herself with more skill than the average peasant. 

For that matter, no one he passed here _was_ an average peasant. Pirates, thieves, cutthroats, and underhanded people of every type, species, and description roamed. Only in a city of thieves and murderers could someone walk unmolested, free of worry of being robbed or killed, since everyone knew well that whoever they attacked could quite easily rob or kill them. 

That didn’t mean the place didn’t have dark alleyways, seemingly tailor-made for brutes to skulk in waiting for their next victim. Bakura found a different use for one such alley, tucked almost a quarter of an hour’s walk away from the docks. 

He pushed back his cloak’s sleeve to expose his left wrist, and something more: a bracelet of gleaming coal-black ebony, set with a single square piece of jade. Only his eyes could see it; that was the spell crafted with it. At least, only his eyes in this city. 

Bakura admired the bracelet for a few moments. Above and beyond the monetary worth (which in his opinion was more so than the entire city and every haul that every pirate crew or bandit band here combined had ever been), he loved it for the coloring. So much like _his_. 

For a good reason, as well. 

He brushed his fingers over the jade three times in a specific pattern, breathing out a single name all three times. “Ryuuji.” 

Rich green emerald smoke poured out from the heart of the jade, circling all around him to the point he couldn’t see more than a few inches away. From behind him, a familiar voice spoke. 

“You took your time.” 

Warm arms encircled him, though the smoke didn’t fade at all. He hadn’t expected it to; neither of them wanted anyone else to see them. The smoke would conceal them from all eyes, magical or otherwise. No one would even see the smoke itself. 

“I had to wait until we docked.” Bakura leaned closer, breathing in the djinn’s unique aroma. It wasn’t very different from an ordinary human’s, but something extra, something _special_ still floated about him, a sparkle that he could only identify as magic. 

One long-fingered hand made its way through Bakura’s hair. “You could’ve called me while you were on board. No one would’ve noticed.” 

“Maybe.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to take any chances.” He didn’t think Captain Mai would try to confiscate the bracelet if she learned about it, but that changed nothing. 

As wonderful as it was to stay here like this, knowing that no one in the city could find them or disturb them, Bakura knew it couldn’t last. He breathed in once more before he stepped away and turned to look directly at the djinn. 

“Take me to him, Otogi.” 

A hint of pain flashed through those emerald eyes, but the djinn couldn’t disobey, even if he’d wanted to. Smoke thickened around them, blinding even Bakura from seeing where they were, and the side of him that breathed magic knew it _for_ magic, for being carried through that strange realm of nothingness the djinn used to travel. 

When the smoke cleared, he stood just outside of a half-ruined temple, thick with overgrowth and a scummy scent that rose off of a pond that no one had tended in years. This place would’ve looked the same to eyes magical or mundane; nothing hid its true nature. 

Neither of them spoke a word, but entered the temple, moving carefully past marble rubble coated in moss and choked by weeds that sprung up between the slabs that once made up the floor. It wasn’t a large temple, though only those skilled in history and lore might’ve recognized the broken images of the God scattered throughout the room. Not that anyone experienced in such would’ve come here anyway. They all stayed far away, fearing curses and death. 

They feared wisely, Bakura knew, for none of those who came here without the proper permissions walked back out again. 

Permissions that he’d been born with and that Otogi held by virtue of the bracelet that bound them together. 

The door that led downward wasn’t one easily seen, even with all the years of experience he had, especially as the sun slipped closer to the horizon, cloaking the small valley that cupped the temple in evening shadows. Once found, he opened it only a small crack, enough for them both to pass through. 

Only when the door closed behind them did spheres of light ignite above them, showing the way. The lights weren’t very bright, but they gave off just enough so he wouldn’t slip and fall. Every time he passed one, that one blinked out and another ahead of him flickered on. None of this place was ever illuminated for more than a few moments at a time. 

At last he came to a series of warren-like corridors and rooms, most of which remained as empty and cold as they’d been when he’d grown up here. He passed his own room without even looking inside. It wouldn’t have changed from his last visit here. No one entered there without his permission except his brother, and his brother wouldn’t have bothered. 

Bakura didn’t stop until he reached a particular room, which looked no different from any of the others except for having a living person in it. His elder brother lounged on a comfortable couch, toying with a small figurine of some kind. Bakura didn’t want to know who it was of. 

“So you’ve finally made it back, little brother.” The other looked up at him, gesturing for them both to come inside. “I hope this trip of yours was worth it.” A finely made cushion rested in front of his brother and Bakura folded himself onto it, Otogi curling up behind him, stretched out on nothing more than empty air. Bakura wanted this over with so the two of them could spend at least a little time together before he had to go back to _Harpie Queen_. 

“I think it was.” He launched into the tale of his experiences since managing to get taken on as a crewmember, how many ships they’d taken and how much treasure Mai now had stored in her vaults. He didn’t leave out the taking of Prince Yuugi’s ship either, or how he’d made a point of saving the young prince from Keith’s attackers. 

From the first moment he mentioned Yuugi, his brother hissed between his teeth, fingers clenching more tightly around the figurine he held. Bakura hadn’t expected any other reaction. Anything to do with _that_ royal family or anyone connected to them infuriated his brother, and with good reason. 

But he still could think, and think well at that. “So if you see the little prince again, he’ll consider you a friend.” His lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. “Good. I’ll keep that in mind.” He waved Bakura out of there. “Keep me updated.” 

Bakura nodded quickly, leaving without waiting for any further questions. He hurried back down to his room, almost collapsing on his bed as he turned to face Otogi…no, Ryuuji. Here it was safe to think the other’s true name. 

The djinn once more curled himself around Bakura, stroking his forehead with his fingers. “You should get away from him, Ryou. I can take you anywhere.” 

“I can’t.” Bakura shook his head; his brother wasn’t his favorite topic of conversation, especially when it was just the two of them. “He’s family.” That said it all, so far as he was concerned. 

Otogi sighed for a moment, arms sliding around the other in a firm, warm hug. “I can take you anywhere, give you anything, make you a prince if that’s what you wanted, and you still stay with him, just because he’s your brother.” “There are other reasons.” Bakura reached up behind himself and set a finger on Otogi’s lips. He didn’t need to say anything else; the implications were clear. Otogi sighed again but didn’t continue that conversation. 

There were other matters that needed discussion, which didn’t need words, and which had been delayed far too long in both their opinions. It was just as well that outside of this room, not a single sound could be heard that either of them didn’t want heard. 

* * *

Sometime later, and Ryou didn’t worry how much later it was, he lounged in Ryuuji’s arms, trying hard not to think of anything that he would have to do once this idyll ended. He could put it off only so long. Sooner or later, his brother would either want something else from him or he’d have to return to the ship, where he couldn’t (or wouldn’t) call on his beloved djinn. 

Soft breath brushed past his ears. “Tonight can last as long as you want it to.” 

How well he knew. But nothing could last forever. 

He wasn’t surprised that Ryuuji knew what he was thinking. The djinn didn’t need to read minds; they’d been together for years, after all. 

“Do you ever regret what happened?” Ryou murmured the words softly, a pang slicing through his heart as he recalled how they’d first met one another all those years earlier. 

Ryuuji ran his fingers across Ryou’s neck and gently tilted the other’s head so they could lock eyes. “Not for a single moment. Is there any reason I would?” 

* * *

If the city of thieves, pirates, and cutthroats held one of the lowest rates of crime against its citizens by its own inhabitants in the known world, then the glittering city of Salduvar on the far side of the continent, renowned throughout the world for its centers of learning and great wealth, held one of the highest. Renting even a small room for a few days took more silver than some people ever saw in their lives. 

Bakura didn’t have to worry too much about that, however, at least not as of yet. From where he stood, he could see the lanterns lit outside the city gates as distant flickering flames and nothing more. The gates wouldn’t open for strangers until sunrise the next morning. 

He would make up his mind on what to do there. He had more than enough to pay for his lodgings, so long as he chose a sensible sort of inn. His brother always made certain he had enough to take care of his expenses. Until then, however, he would have to make do with what bedding he had tonight. 

All things considered, he’d been somewhat lucky to find this barn, stocked full with ripening hay. A few coins passed to the farmer who owned it, and he had a pleasant enough space to pass the night. _The sooner I get to sleep, the better._ He curled up onto the hay, closing his eyes as he pulled his cloak over himself and in mere moments lay sound asleep. 

He had no idea of how long he’d been asleep when something jerked him out of it. It always took him a few moments to fully wake up in the morning, let alone in the middle of the night, so for those few precious heartbeats, Bakura didn’t move, confused and muzzy-headed. 

“Got him!” A harsh voice grated next to his ear, one he realized a few moments later as that of the farmer he’d paid for a night here. He jerked as hard as he could, only to find himself bound with a thick rope, one that kept his hands firmly by his sides and unable to touch anyone. 

“What are you doing?” He struggled as hard as he could, and all he won for his troubles was a sharp smack against the side of his head. 

“Careful, dad,” a second voice spoke and he jerked his head up to see a slightly smaller edition of the farmer kneeling right across from him, glittering greedy eyes staring at him. “Market day’s tomorrow and if he’s all bruised up, no one’s going to want him.” 

Bakura began to open his mouth again, only to have the farmer’s son shove a thick, smelly piece of burlap between his lips and the farmer tie it there with another piece of thick rope. 

“That’ll keep him quiet until they can get a proper collar on him.” The son nodded, then glanced off to where Bakura’s packs hung on a protruding nail. “Anything in there worth taking with us?” 

A third person, with enough of a family resemblance that Bakura suspected him of being another son, dug through the packs with casual possessiveness. “Nothing I can see. Looks like he’s just a poor nobody.” 

If Bakura hadn’t been as furious as he already was at the idea of being _sold_ at market like a common cow or sheep, he would’ve been even more so at that. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the right kind of force on the ropes in order to work through them. 

“Come on.” The farmer dragged him up by the rope and wound another length of it around his neck in a makeshift collar. “We’ve got a better place for you to stay until we can get you to the market.” 

Bakura shook his head as hard as he could; if he could just get his hands free! But all he could do was stumble after the farmer as the other led him to the farmhouse. He’d noticed earlier how well-made the various outbuildings were, and had chosen the barn not just for the sturdiness, but for how close it was to the city. He wouldn’t have disturbed any of them by moving on at first light. 

Now he was shoved into a small building tucked behind the main house itself, with the farmer wrapping the ropes around an iron hoop fastened to the wall. 

“You get comfortable. We’ll be around at first light to head into the city for market.” The farmer’s smile wasn’t a pleasant one at all, not by Bakura’s standards. “Don’t worry. You’re young and pretty. Someone will pay a lot for you.” 

Bakura failed to find that reassuring. 

The farmer left enough rope so Bakura could at least sit on the ground, though it wasn’t the kind of warm, fluffy bed offered by the hay. Bakura settled down, trying to work out what to do about this. 

_If I can just touch one of them…_ That would solve all of his problems, since he could command that one to release him and he would be able to escape from there. From the way they’d bound him, though, touching wasn’t going to come easily. 

Did they know about him? About what his touch could do to someone? He didn’t think so; if they had, they wouldn’t have tried this at all, not without taking more precautions than this, like bags over his hands, or thick gloves, or something. Just tying him wouldn’t be enough. 

_At least I can get some sleep here._ He made himself as comfortable as possible, which wasn’t easy or very comfortable, but he did it nevertheless. He would find a way to get free either before they reached the market or before anyone could actually start to bid on him, and he’d be able to continue his mission, and have an interesting story to tell his brother. 

He managed to drift back to sleep after what felt like forever. Unfortunately, first light ended up being much closer than he would’ve liked, especially with how his rest had been interrupted. Far, far too early, the door to the prison shed banged open, and the farmer’s oldest son stood there as Bakura blinked up at him. 

“Time to go.” He reached in and unwound the rope keeping Bakura bound there and dragged him out, pushing him toward a horse-drawn wagon. Instead of pushing Bakura onto it, though, he wound the rope through a ring on the back of the wagon. “Don’t worry. We’re not going too fast. You’ll keep up.” 

Bakura just rolled his eyes and tested the strength of the bindings, and the wagon ring. If one of them had any sort of give to it… 

It didn’t take very long before the entire family settled into the wagon: father, mother, two sons, and two daughters. The father took up the reins and flicked them gently, sending the horse down the lane. As promised, the wagon didn’t move so swiftly that Bakura had any problems keeping up. None of them gave him as much as a look as they rode along, far too busy with their own conversations. 

At least that gave Bakura himself something to listen to, and he soon figured that the reason they were doing this involved money and marriages. The oldest son wanted to marry the daughter of a wealthy landowner, who wouldn’t even consider a suitor who couldn’t provide for his beloved child, and the money they planned to get from selling Bakura would make a fine down payment. 

The wagon moved along at a pace somewhat faster than a walk, and Bakura had to keep all of his attention on walking and not stumbling, since they hadn’t bothered to give him anything to eat or drink along the way. Soon they arrived at the city gates, already open, and with a swift stream of people, carts, and other wagons going in and out. 

“Here for market day?” One of the guards eyed Bakura, but addressed himself to the father in the wagon, who nodded. “He looks like a prime specimen. I’ve heard some of the nobles plan to attend today, so you could get a very good price. Better get moving.” 

That wasn’t even remotely what Bakura wanted to hear, but the father clucked to the horse and soon they made their way through the city streets and toward a part of the market marked by the scent of cattle, sheep, horses, and a myriad of other beasts for sale, humans included. 

“Does he have a name?” The factor in charge of slave buying and selling looked Bakura over thoroughly, showing no more special care than if he’d been a steer or a stallion. 

“Didn’t ask.” The farmer father shrugged. “Just some vagabond who wanted a night in the barn, and I figure this will give him a better life anyway. A solid place to live and good work.” 

So far as Bakura knew, the father probably even believed that. The factor gestured to a couple of burly guards to take him away, and he soon found himself in a small stone cell, barely large enough for one person to stand. He’d been unbound, at least by the ropes, but using his power on someone else wasn’t an option anymore. Thick iron cuffs bound his wrists together, meant only for keeping him from escaping. 

What they also did was ensure he couldn’t use his power, since iron prevented the use of magic, even inborn power like his. 

_Someone will have to take it off me when I’m sold._ Not all slaves wore collars, and not all of those that did wore ones of iron. He wasn’t even close to ready to giving up. People of his blood _didn’t_ give up, not even when every odd in existence was stacked against them. 

So now he waited yet again, waited for someone to bid for him once he was put on the block. Whoever it was might well think he was the master, but Bakura intended to show them otherwise the moment he had the chance. 

Finally a guard returned and Bakura followed quietly, hearing the noise of a crowd the farther they drew to the outside market. A dozen people of every age stood in a huddle near the block itself, and guards brought more, shoving them all together. A short man stood besides the block, waving at another crowd, this one consisting of people dressed in fine garments of every type, some native to the city and some of foreign extraction. One and all, Bakura knew, they were there to purchase one or more slaves. 

Bakura watched as all the others were pulled up onto the block, their virtues extolled and any flaws minimized, each one bringing more and more wealth to whoever owned them before. He caught sight of the farm family just as he was pushed up to the block and seethed. He would find a way to pay them back, no matter how long it took. 

“We’ve got a fine strong specimen here! Looks like he could be of use in someone’s library or work room! Or maybe just a cleaning hand! You can train him to do whatever you want, he’s fresh meat!” The slave auctioneer declared. “Whatever you want, he’s yours, for the right price!” 

Voices called back and forth, naming prices that made Bakura’s head spin a little. He’d never thought someone would pay that much money for _him_. Granted, he’d never considered how much anyone would pay for him anyway. It just wasn’t something he’d thought about. 

“I’ll pay fifty thousand.” The voice cut through the babble like a sword, bringing silence in its wake. Everyone there, slave, bidder, and gawker, turned to see someone just having arrived there, looking directly at Bakura. The bid outranked the last one by a good ten thousand. 

The auctioneer swallowed for a moment. “Fifty thousand, my lord? Are you certain?” Bakura couldn’t tell if he were offended or shocked, and found that he cared even less. He couldn’t see who it was, not with the shadows cast by the buildings surrounding the market square, but he wanted this over with. From the price offered and what little he could see of the bidder’s outfit, they appeared a noble, possibly of this city. This meant he’d be right where he needed to be in order to finish his mission. 

“I am.” A small purse flew through the air, tossed by the noble, and landed at the auctioneer’s feet. “You’ll find it all in there.” He gestured to one of those standing with him, who hurried over to the auctioneer as quickly as he could. In just a few moments, the same servant led Bakura over to his new master, who looked him up and down. “A name?” 

“Bakura.” They didn’t need to know his full name, and it wasn’t likely that the history of his clan’s name would’ve penetrated to this part of the world. Not to mention, telling someone else the name of one’s heart gave them all power over one. Bakura wasn’t such a fool. 

One dark eyebrow lifted up for a fraction of a moment, then the noble nodded. “Come along then, Bakura.” 

The noble didn’t yet bother to remove the cuffs on Bakura’s wrists, and he said nothing to bring them to the other’s attention just yet. He didn’t like this for a moment, but the more he acted as if he were a slave, the less the noble would put a watch on him. So when the right chance came, he’d be gone and no one the wiser. 

The trip to the noble’s mansion wasn’t a very long one, though from the scents and the surroundings, they could not have been farther from the slave market if they were on the far side of the world. Surrounded by walls of white marble, where guards stood at regular intervals, and further surrounded by a broad emerald green yard, the mansion resembled something from the tales of the homes of the gods. 

“Beautiful.” Bakura couldn’t help but breathe as they entered, and the noble chuckled. 

“It didn’t always look like this. I’ve had improvements made.” A sly smile flickered across his features as he led the way inside. “You will be my personal servant, Bakura. My last one failed in his duties and I had to dispose of him.” 

Bakura tensed at that. What exactly could ‘failed in his duties’ mean? Perhaps something of that conveyed itself to the noble, who turned to look at Bakura a little more closely. 

“He touched a possession of mine that he had no right to. So long as you don’t do the same, you have nothing to fear. You’ll be told what you need to keep away from. For now, I want you cleaned up and changed into proper clothes.” He glanced at the cuffs on Bakura’s wrists, then looked toward one of the other servants. “See to it that those are disposed of as well. I don’t think we’ll have need of them.” 

“As you wish, my lord.” The servant motioned for Bakura to follow him, leading him through multiple corridors until they reached a smithy, far in the back where the noise wouldn’t bother anyone. Soon enough Bakura rubbed his wrists, the cuffs gone, and followed yet again until he was brought to a vast bathing chamber. “Here, wash yourself. Proper clothes will be waiting once you’re done.” 

Bakura didn’t wait around for a second telling, stripping off what remained of his previous garments and submerging himself into the clear water. He’d walked for nearly three days before this mess of being sold into slavery had even begun, and following behind the cart hadn’t done a great deal to improve his cleanliness either. He scrubbed himself from top to bottom at least twice over, finding a neatly folded towel on the side once he was done. 

Finally clean and wearing the same kind of blue-trimmed white tunic he had seen other slaves in this household wear while hurrying about on their duties, he was guided to a central chamber, where the noble lounged on a long couch. Next to him on a cushioned stool there knelt a young man who appeared of Bakura’s own age, with thick coal-black hair and eyes fit to make emeralds weep with envy. He wore very little, and stared at the master with what Bakura recognized right away as utterly feigned adoration. 

“Ah, here you are.” The noble nodded, beckoning Bakura closer. “I wanted you to meet my precious treasure. Bakura, this is Otogi. You will obey him as you would me, in all things. But you’re not to _touch_ him in any way. Only I am allowed to touch him. Do you understand?” 

Bakura’s attention flickered between the two for a single heartbeat. The more he could see of this Otogi, the more he realized there was something unusual about him, something otherworldly. When the master moved, revealing a bracelet on one arm, he recognized what it was right away, as well as what Otogi was. The power wrapped up in both of them screamed to the part of him that knew magic. 

“Of course.” He spoke up before more than a single heartbeat passed. “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Otogi.” He realized then he didn’t even know what his actual master’s name was. Another moment after that, and he realized that he didn’t even care. 

Otogi laughed a little, leaning closer to the noble as he did. “You can just call me Otogi. I’m not a lord.” 

“As you wish.” Bakura tucked his head down as if in humility and listened as the noble outlined the rest of his duties, none of which were taxing or involved in the slightest. That was all to the good; he would be able to concentrate on his real mission. 

What kind of good luck did he have that he ended up being sold into slavery right into the one household of all others that he would’ve wanted to enter in the first place? Given every right to live here without suspicion, until he could find a way to steal that bracelet and what came with it? If he’d believed in any kind of Gods looking out for him, he would’ve offered up thanks right away. 

He stood beside the master’s couch, as silent and unobtrusive as a good body slave should be, and kept his attention split, most of it listening for any orders, the rest simply admiring the room itself, and what he’d seen of the rest of the mansion. Clearly his master held great wealth and power, which meant influence. The question remained on just how he’d acquired them. 

_Otogi’s help, I’m sure._ Which made it all the more imperative that he find a way to get both of them out of there. He didn’t trust power like this not to fall into someone else’s hands, someone who would use it for far worse ends than making their own life one of pointless leisure. 

* * *

A few long days passed, and Bakura did all within his power to make certain he learned everything he could about what this mansion and those in it were like. The master feasted three times a day, letting his slaves feed themselves from what he left behind, but so far as Bakura could tell, there wasn’t any sort of kitchen and no one to work in one. The meals appeared whenever the master wished it so. 

He knew the master’s routine in a matter of days. It seldom varied, and being his body slave enabled him to figure out the likely odds of taking the bracelet: non-existent. The master never took it off, waking or sleeping. Bakura couldn’t blame him; if he owned something with that sort of power, he wouldn’t have taken it off either. But the man’s caution made Bakura’s goal just that fraction harder to accomplish. 

Using his own power to claim it would be the easiest solution. He hadn’t noticed any signs of magic other than what he knew came from Otogi. Yet he didn’t know what _all_ of that meant just yet. Some actions were best not taken without thinking them over first 

The more time he watched Otogi with the master, though, the more he wanted the spectacular djinn away from there for other reasons. The noble treated Otogi exactly like what he’d called him that first day: a possession. One that he took precious care of, but one that he seldom allowed out of his sight and no one else could touch him, and few could speak to him. Even Bakura watched his words, not wanting the master to think for a moment he saw Otogi as anything more than the master’s favorite plaything. 

He’d seen Otogi giving him looks as well, whenever the master wasn’t paying attention. That was more than Bakura would’ve expected. He didn’t know for certain what those looks meant, either. Otogi was a hard one to read. 

The noble spent most of his time at home, sometime enjoying himself in fashions Bakura didn’t care to know a great deal about, or exploring his own library, or entertaining guests in a style that many kings would’ve envied. No caterers or extra servants were ever hired or sent for when those feasts happened, yet just like for ordinary meals, the food appeared piping hot and from the reaction of the guests, delicious far beyond what anyone from the city could provide. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that you were a mage of some kind, with how good this food tastes! I’ve never known a cook who could craft anything like this without at least a week’s notice!” One of the other nobles, perhaps a little higher ranked than Bakura’s master, praised one night. 

The master chuckled and shook his head. “It’s only a matter of knowing who to ask. I assure you that I’m no sorcerer.” 

Bakura, standing just a short distance away, caught sight of Otogi’s hands flexing for a brief moment, and a venomous glare directed toward their master that vanished in a single heartbeat. He kept his own expression absolutely neutral, waiting for any orders that might be given. But that look told him something of what he needed to know. 

“If you know who to ask, then tell me! I could always use a little help in the council.” The noble to whom their master spoke leaned forward as he did. “And if you could lend a hand, I’m certain that I could help you as well.” 

The master considered, his attention flickering to Otogi. Bakura suspected he knew something of what was going on in his mind; give away his secret and gain more social standing and influence, or keep it to himself and have his monopoly on the djinn’s power unbroken? 

“Perhaps that’s something we should discuss in private.” The master said at last, rising to his feet. “One never knows where unfriendly ears might listen.” 

“Of course.” Neither of them gave Bakura or Otogi another glance, save for a quick handwave of the master to indicate dismissal. Bakura bowed his head low, concealing a quick smile as the two exited the dining hall and headed toward one of the outer courtyards. 

No sooner had they done so than Otogi growled a dark and low growl, glaring after them. “If I could, I’d turn them both into lizards.” “Lizards?” 

“I know some very large birds that would love to have some lunch.” Otogi grumbled before he turned his full attention toward Bakura. “They’ll be busy all night trying to barter my services, I’m sure.” His lips thinned for a moment or two. “You know, don’t you?” 

Bakura allowed himself a small smile of his own. “That you’re a djinn who supplies the master with everything he wants?” 

“Wants, needs, thinks that he wants, thinks that he needs.” Otogi shook his head. “Yes.” For several long moments Bakura considered what to do. Then he gestured toward the door. Inside wasn’t the best sort of place to discuss matters like this. Otogi didn’t hesitate, strolling along beside him as if they did this every day. For all that both remained in frequent, if not constant, attendance on their master, they’d never yet spoken to one another in private before. The master hadn’t forbidden it, but the situation just hadn’t arisen until now. 

“It’s the bracelet, isn’t it?” Bakura wanted to make certain before he even began the conversation properly. “That’s what keeps you tied to him.” 

“That’s it.” Otogi drew in a heavy sigh. “And you can’t just take it from him. He made certain of that before he ever put it on. He has to give it to you because he _wants_ you to have it.” 

Bakura held back a smile. “Are there any other restrictions on that?” He had a very handy way to make certain their master gave him the bracelet fully willingly. 

“What else would he need?” Otogi grumbled. “He never lets anyone else know what the bracelet can do, and no one else even sees it for what it is. They all think I’m just someone he picked up and keeps for pleasure. He has every kind of protection from every kind of harmful magic possible while he wears it, along with every kind of weapon, magical or not.” “He’s protected against all magic?” Bakura repeated that with a sudden sinking heart. 

“Everything that I could ward him against.” Otogi’s lips twisted upward. “If it doesn’t fail entirely, it bounces back on whoever tried to use it on him. That was what _really_ happened with your predecessor. He wasn’t trying to ‘touch me’. He was trying to _free me_.” 

Bakura tensed even more, fingers tightening into fists. “What happened?” He wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to know, but he knew that he had to. 

“He ended up being swept up into a very small pile of ashes and tossed out with the trash.” Otogi shook his head, eyes cast downward. 

Bakura frowned. He wasn’t going to just let this go. “Is there anything he’s not protected against?” 

“If I couldn’t think of it before, then the minute I did think about it, I’d have to ward him against it if I can.” Otogi drew another deep breath. “That was part of his original wish. The only way he can die is of extreme old age.” 

Something about that teased at the back of Bakura’s mind, something he couldn’t quite figure out yet. _I’ll have to think about it._

“How did you end up like this?” Perhaps if he knew Otogi better, he could figure out an answer of some kind. “I didn’t think djinn found themselves bound that often.” 

“We don’t.” Otogi didn’t make any gesture, but the door leading to one of the smaller courtyards opened anyway and the two of them began a stroll around the central pool there. He said nothing else about what might’ve ended him up in this situation, though. When he did speak, it wasn’t about himself. “What about you? You haven’t been a slave long, have you?” 

Bakura held back a smile. “Not since before I came here.” He told of what happened with the farm family, Otogi listening to every word. 

“So you were coming here anyway?” The djinn asked once he’d finished. Bakura nodded. “Why?” 

“My brother sent me.” Bakura saw no reason not to tell, and plenty of reason to do so. “We’d heard rumors about a djinn in the area. I’m not sure how he found out, but I know he has contacts around here.” Someone like his brother had contacts everywhere except possibly the king’s palace and Bakura wasn’t ready to bet that he didn’t have them there. 

Otogi gave him a quick look. “What kind of wishes does _he_ have?” 

“I can think of a few.” Bakura knew at least two offhand, and he had no idea if mastery of a djinn came with a limited amount of wishes or not. “But I know he wouldn’t keep you like a pretty pet.” 

Otogi ran his fingers over the silver collar just barely visible behind his hair, eyes narrowed in thought. “He has to want to give the bracelet away. There’s little that isn’t old age that can kill him. He never has had any intentions of freeing me.” 

A good summary of the problems that faced them. Bakura couldn’t yet see a way through them. “Is there anything that can break your bond to the bracelet?” If they could find a way to free Otogi, that would eliminate the need to have the master hand over the bracelet. 

“Only one thing, but I don’t expect it to ever happen.” Otogi shrugged, tilting his head back to watch as a silver sliver of moon rose over the wall. “I want to get away from here. Whatever your brother wants can’t be as bad as living like this.” 

Bakura took a look at the mansion’s incredible grounds, thought of the meals served that would make kings weep with envy, jewels and clothes far grander than anything he’d ever seen in his entire life, and held back a shudder by effort alone. “Then I’ll help you.” It would not be easy. He couldn’t be certain if it were even possible. But it would be _tried_. 

* * *

“I have work for you to do, my dear.” The master turned his attention toward Otogi the next day, having returned late from his long discussions with his friend. “My dear ally requires a feast at his home in two days’ time. This won’t be a problem, will it?” 

Otogi made no outward sign of being bothered by this at all, at least not one most people might’ve seen. Bakura, now watching him even more carefully, saw the faintest ripple of tension through his jaw. 

“Of course not, master. Is there anything in particular that he wishes served?” 

“All of your finest, of course.” The master leaned forward, greed in the set of his lips. “And once that’s done, there will be other considerations to take care of.” 

The djinn tensed just a fraction more. “Master, I’ve told you before. I can’t influence the minds of others. My power doesn’t reach like that.” 

The master’s eyes narrowed, fingers brushing across the fringe of the cushions on his couch. “This isn’t a _request_. This is a _command_.” 

“I _can’t do it_.” Otogi shook his head and started to shift to his feet. “No djinn’s powers work like that. I cannot do what you command. It isn’t whether or not I want to.” 

Bakura’s mind raced, even as the master’s hands clenched harder on the cushions. “Master.” He spoke up as he shifted forward just the slightest. “I might be able to help you and your friend.” 

The master didn’t even bother to look at him. “Quiet. If I want your help, I’ll tell you what you can do.” He kept all of his attention on Otogi. “Now, _slave_ , I’ve let you pretend that you can’t do what I say before. But no more.” 

His hand started to move forward, but Bakura’s was even quicker as he seized the master around his bare left wrist. It took only a flicker of concentration, and he didn’t know if it would even _work_. 

“Master. Calm down.” He remembered what Otogi told him about wards, but he couldn’t sense any of them, and he had to take this chance. 

As soon as he uttered the words, the master relaxed, turning toward him now, confusion in his pale eyes. “What?” 

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Bakura met his eyes with his own, calm and reasonable and his insides a jumble of fear and fret. “If he can’t help you, I can.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Bakura hadn’t let him go and didn’t make any moves to do so. He wanted the master to listen, and he needed to know what he could do. “I have an ability of my own. If your ally wishes someone to go along with a desire of his, I can make it happen. I have to touch them and they’ll do it.” 

With each word he spoke, a savage joy replaced confusion in the master’s expression. “Is that so?” 

“Yes.” Bakura chose now to release the master’s wrist. “I’ve only used it to protect myself before, but if it’s something _you_ wish me to do, then I will.” 

He didn’t dare look at Otogi. He suspected very strongly if he did, neither of them would be able to keep a straight face. He’d taken a risk there, remembering what the djinn told him about how he’d warded the master against all that _could_ be warded against, and what he’d just told the master about being unable to affect the mind. 

In all truth, he wasn’t even sure if the other _was_ affected by his power, or if the idea of being able to control someone else appealed to him so much that he just didn’t care about a slave touching him without permission. Either way, this was the first step on his plan. 

“Exactly how do you need to touch them?” The noble’s gaze flickered back and forth between the two. 

“Anywhere on them will do, so long as it’s bare flesh to bare flesh. It doesn’t last long, little more than a few minutes, but there’s sometimes a lingering effect. They tend not to want to bother me after that.” He’d had a lifetime to master his power; he knew what he could do and what he couldn’t. “But for those few minutes, they’ll do exactly as I wish.” 

The greedy man rubbed his hands together and chuckled. “Excellent. It looks as if you were right, Otogi. He is very useful.” 

A thin blade of fear slid down Bakura’s back, one he dared not betray. He simply waited to see what else the master would want from him. 

“His lordship wishes one of the council members to vote in his favor on an upcoming matter.” The master said after a few moments. He glanced toward Otogi. “I would rather that your …gift…remained our secret.” 

Bakura bent his head right away. “Of course, master.” He still refused to look properly at Otogi. 

“Can you get Bakura to where he can affect the councilor?” 

Otogi leaned forward, looking only serious and focused on the matter. “I think so. No one will notice us, either. I _know_ I can do that.” 

“Good. Do it. The sooner, the better.” The master rose, brushing himself off. “This will be _quite_ profitable.” And his smile held nothing of kindness at all. 

* * *

“What did you mean, I’d be useful?” Bakura hadn’t changed his mind about freeing the djinn from their master’s grip, but he wanted to know what was going on before he did much more than he already had. 

Otogi shrugged. The two of them walked side by side through the well-lit streets, heading to the Council Hall. Their master wasn’t on it (at least not yet) and only those who sat there or their servants were allowed to enter. Normally, at least. Such rules applied to them only until they found a way around them. 

“When he had me incinerate your predecessor, he wanted me to find someone who’d be a good replacement.” His lips curved quickly into a slash of a smile. “He didn’t specify very many details, so I found someone who could do what he wanted, and who I thought could do what _I_ wanted.” The smile vanished in a heartbeat as he eyed Otogi. “I just didn’t think you’d actually be looking for me anyway.” 

Bakura nodded; he still didn’t entirely trust this situation. He didn’t _know_ everything about it, he couldn’t trust it, not yet. He couldn’t be certain if he ever would. 

He wasn’t going to mention any of the ideas he had on bubbling in his head. Most of them weren’t formed enough to want to talk about anyway, and he dared not consider expressing them in case the master interrogated Otogi about what they talked about while out of his sight. If the djinn had to protect him from anything that he knew about, then the best method was to make certain Otogi didn’t know anything. 

A slight wash of magic brushed past him and Bakura looked up to see the faintest hint of a green glow to Otogi’s eyes, just as they came into sight of the Council Hall. “No one will notice us now. Let’s go.” 

Indeed, though the sight of a pair of slaves without any of the distinctive markings or papers that would’ve normally granted them access to the hallways of the great and grand would’ve drawn _some_ attention, the two of them entered the building without incident. Otogi seemed to know where he was going, guiding Bakura through the corridors until they entered the vast central room. Around a broad table of polished mahogany sat a dozen or so nobles, all chatting comfortably with one another, and none noticing the two new arrivals. 

“Which one?” Bakura kept his voice pitched low. They weren’t all identical, but he couldn’t have picked any of them out from the description they’d been given, except for the one their master had entertained some few days earlier. 

Otogi checked them all out, eyes narrowing. “That one.” He gestured to a young man seated across from the one Bakura could recognize. “Just encourage him to cast his vote the ‘right’ way.” 

Oh, Bakura had plans for more than that. He moved carefully over to the councilor, Otogi shadowing him to keep him hidden, and set one hand on the other’s neck. He knew the moment his power took effect, sensing the slight relaxation under his hand. He moved just a fraction closer, murmuring into the other’s ear. 

Perhaps if someone paid attention to how long he spoke, the thought that it took longer than necessary to request a simple vote might’ve occurred to this supposed watcher. Yet the only one there was Otogi, who kept all of his attention on ensuring they weren’t detected, which was far harder than he wanted it to look like himself. 

Finally Bakura took a step back and brushed a trail of sweat away from his forehead. “It took more than I thought it would. He didn’t want to go along with it at all.” 

“That makes a difference?” 

“Sometimes. It depends on just what it is.” Bakura did not hide the slight smile of satisfaction at his success, though. “I think we can go now.” His stomach rumbled; he hadn’t bothered to eat prior to coming out on this mission, and now he really needed something. 

Once they were out of the building and blended into the crowds one more, Otogi held out his hand, a round ripe apple in it. They hadn’t passed any fruit vendors, of course. Bakura took it, a small grateful smile on his lips, and bit into it. He’d eaten food created by the djinn before, or the leftovers of such, but there was a special sweetness to this that all of the others lacked. Perhaps it had something to do with it being a full apple, all to himself, and not something bitten into by someone else before. 

Perhaps for other reasons. 

* * *

The master couldn’t have been more pleased when word of the vote spread throughout the city. Neither Bakura nor Otogi knew all of the details on the matter, but it sufficed that his pleasure meant he trusted them both more than ever. He still didn’t give Bakura permission to touch Otogi, but neither of them expected that anyway. 

Two nights after the vote, while the master dined, providing Otogi with choice bits of the meal from his fingertips, a servant stepped into the room, holding a small box. 

“Master?” 

“What is it?” The noble glanced up, annoyed at having his entertainment interrupted. 

“This arrived, via a special courier. There’s a message with it, for your eyes only, my lord.” 

Otogi lifted his head curiously, glancing at Bakura, who shook his own in return. 

The master gestured for the box, eyes widening as the servant drew closer with it. Carved of exquisite cedar wood, anyone could tell that it held some form of magnificent treasure inside. He reached for it quickly, but the servant held it back for a moment. 

“Master, the messenger insisted that you read the note first.” He held out a scrap of paper, which the master snatched from his hand and scanned rapidly. Bakura could see it from where he stood in silent attendance. 

_My lord, I appreciate all of your help in our recent matter. Please accept this gift as a token of my appreciation. I hope we can work together again in the future._ And it held the sign and seal of the same Council noble who’d bartered for Otogi’s services. 

The master tossed the paper to one side and yanked the box to himself, pulling it open to reveal a velvet lining, and seated in the center of that lining a gleaming golden ring set with a large ruby so dark red it was almost black. It was ostentatious, in bad taste, and Bakura knew at once the master loved it. 

“Look at this!” He held it up to the light, admiring the gleam of it through the facets. “Wonderful! Simply wonderful!” 

He slid it onto his right hand, admiring it once again. “I must send thanks at once!” 

* * *

The first night, nothing happened. 

The second night, the finger he’d set the ring on began to throb, slowly. The noble ignored it, being far more interested in what other uses he could find for Bakura and Otogi’s talents. 

The third night the throb increased to a sharp, stabbing pain that kept him awake for hours. He yanked and tugged at the ring for most of those hours, trying in vain to get it off. 

“What is this? Otogi, get it off me!” The master all but squealed as he pulled at it with all of his might. “Get it off, now!” 

Otogi brushed his fingers against it and quickly pulled back, paling. “I can’t. There’s something underneath the gold.” He paled even more. “Iron.” 

“Iron?” The master growled the word out, glaring at the djinn in rising fury. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

It was Bakura who answered from his position by the door. “Iron negates all magic used against it or near it. Anyone bound in iron can’t use magic or have it used on them. It can even burn some creatures that _are_ magic.” He paused, glancing at Otogi before he continued. “Such as djinn.” 

The master hissed a few words few would’ve cared to hear out loud. “I want this off me!” 

“If you can’t get it off by pulling or by magic, the only way I can see is to cut the finger off.” Bakura kept a perfectly straight face. “If it gets worse, you might have to cut your hand off.” 

The noble shook his head even harder. “Go to his home right now! I want to know what price he wants for getting this off me! He has to know a way!” 

Bakura bent his head and slipped out the door. He didn’t expect this trip to take very long and he was right, returning less than an hour later to find the master, still in his sleepwear, unbrushed and unwashed, and still yanking at the ring every few moments as if it would come off if he tried hard enough. 

“Well?” The master snapped the word out as soon as Bakura stepped back into the room. “What does he want for it? Gold? Gems? A firstborn child I don’t have?” 

“No. He said he had no idea of what you’re talking about. He’s sent you nothing at all.” 

Those few servants who hadn’t yet heard of the master’s problem learned about it in the next heartbeat, as his enraged roar split the air. He leaped to his feet, scrambling for clothes and shoes, ignoring all of Bakura’s attempts to assist. 

“I’ll show that lying…if he doesn’t get this off me, I’ll _end_ him!” 

Without waiting for either Bakura or Otogi to follow him, he stalked out of the mansion. The two of them exchanged only the quickest of glances before they followed, as good servants would. The entire city, or at least that portion of it awake that morning, learned of the master’s predicament as well, as he didn’t keep his voice down once he stood outside the other’s mansion. 

“As I told your slave, I had nothing to do with sending you any gifts at all. Someone used my name for this.” The noble stared down at their master, rage in every bitten off word. “Find out who did that and appeal to them.” 

“Who, then!?” The master shrieked. “Who would do this to me?” 

_I could think of several people._ Bakura didn’t dare to say it out loud. 

Rumors ran rampant throughout the city of the master’s unfortunate issue. Each passing day the pain grew more intense, and lines of red and green began to shoot up his hand and arm. He paced long into the night, falling into bed just as dawn lit the sky, and waking to pace again only a few hours later. He seldom ate, no matter how delicious whatever Otogi created for him was, and tossed and turned while in his bed, seldom gaining more than an hour or two of proper rest. 

“It can’t kill me, can it?” He appealed to Otogi on the sixth day, drenched in sweat and pale as the moon. 

Otogi shook his head, and Bakura knew the other wasn’t smiling, at least not on the outside. What might be going through his head was anyone’s guess. He knew that _he_ wanted to, very much. 

“Your wish remains. You can’t die except by old age.” Otogi paused only for a heartbeat. “There’s poison involved with that ring somehow. It’s one I don’t recognize, but it’s not magical. The iron would’ve negated that if it were. And magic can’t cure it. If we knew what it was, we could locate an antidote, if there is one.” 

The master’s hand passed over the ring, then the bracelet itself. Dark fury attempted to flare in his eyes and failed. “I know what whoever sent this wants. He wants _you_. He wants me to cut my own arm off so he can claim the bracelet.” He tried to sit up and sat back down after only a moment. “That’s what he wants.” 

“How could that be?” Bakura suggested softly, keeping nothing but respect in his tone. “Who could even enter here to get it, if that’s what they wanted? Wouldn’t your guards keep them out?” 

“Not if they offered a respite from this.” The master waved his swollen and pained arm, then set it back down quickly. “I’d almost give it away now for this to stop.” 

Silence fell in the wake of his words. Bakura shifted closer. “If it means that much to you…” 

If he’d spoken those words a week earlier, the master likely would’ve ordered him beaten. Today, the master only stared at his arm, then at Otogi. 

“Send for the doctor. Tell him…I want my arm removed.” 

* * *

When the doctor arrived, he got to work without a moment’s delay, checking over the master’s arm and shaking his head and clucking his tongue. “This is a rare poison. I don’t even know if there’s a cure for it anyway. Removal _is_ the only option that I know of, if magic cannot work.” 

“It can’t.” Otogi advised. “The ring itself prevents that, and there’s no way to get it off.” 

“Interesting, interesting.” The doctor shooed both Otogi and Bakura out of there, closing the door behind them so only he and his assistant were with the master. 

Silence reigned between them as they heard only murmured noises coming from the bedroom. Bakura finally broke it. “You could’ve removed his arm with magic, couldn’t you?” 

“Easily.” Otogi smirked, lounging back on the nearest cushioned chair. “I’m not usually allowed to harm my master, but since he would’ve ordered it, I could’ve.” 

Bakura held back a smirk of his own, keeping his attention on the door. He didn’t know how the doctor kept the noise down and every passing moment he wondered if something he hadn’t expected was going to bring all of his plans to ruin. He’d worked _hard_ for this, and he wanted it all over with, preferably before morning. 

Long hours crept by until the door swung open at last and the doctor stepped out, covered in as much sweat as the master had been. “It’s done. I had to take it off from his shoulder down but the poison’s stopped. He should show some improvement in a few days and he should make a full recovery.” 

“What about…” Otogi leaned forward, a tingle of excitement in his vivid green eyes. 

The doctor’s assistant followed the doctor out, holding something wrapped up in bandages. The doctor gestured him toward the door before he spoke again. “We’re taking the ring for examination and the arm to get burned properly. The bracelet he wore is on the table in there. He asked for both of you, but don’t stay long. He needs to rest.” 

Neither doctor nor assistant had been gone for more than a breath before Otogi and Bakura both entered the room where the master lay on his bed, staring up to the ceiling. He turned his head as soon as they came in. 

“There it is. Find out who wanted it and give it to them.” Bitter hatred filled every word. “Let them have joy of it.” 

Bakura glanced at Otogi only for a moment, enough for the other to give a slight nod. He picked up the bracelet and slid it onto his wrist. “As you wish.” 

“Isn’t that my line?” Otogi cracked a flicker of a smile before he straightened up a little, neither of them paying more than cursory attention to their master. “Now, what’s your first wish, _master_?” Or perhaps that should be paying such attention to their _former_ master. 

The minute Otogi uttered that word, the noble sat up, or tried to, eyes wide and full of a sudden realization of fury. He sputtered incoherently as Bakura touched the jade set on the bracelet. 

“I wish for you to take me back home. I’ve got what I came for.” And without another look at the one who’d called them both his slaves, the two of them vanished from there, wrapped up in a sparkling emerald glow of djinn magic. 

* * *

“How did you do it?” Otogi asked, arms wrapped around Bakura as they swept through the djinn’s realm of travel. “I can guess why you didn’t tell me, but how?” 

“It wasn’t hard. When I convinced that nobleman to vote the way he wanted him to, I added in a suggestion that he send a very particular gift afterward. _That_ was easier than convincing him to cast his vote was. No one there liked him.” Bakura took a few breaths, enjoying the way the djinn’s skin warmed against his. 

Otogi chuckled. The trip through here would take as long or as short a time as he wanted it to, and he wanted to take his time at the moment. “You’re devious. I like that.” 

“It’s a family trait.” Bakura tilted his head to catch another glimpse of the djinn. “I need to make certain no one steals the bracelet from me. But I don’t want to do what he did. And I don’t want to show you off, either.” 

The djinn considered that, then shrugged. “I can make it invisible to everyone who isn’t you. If no one knows you have it, they can’t try to steal it. And I could sleep in there most of the time anyway.” 

That sounded better than anything else Bakura could think of at the moment. He nodded, relaxing more. “I still have to let my brother know about this.” 

“He’s not going to cause a problem, is he?” 

“I don’t think so. He just wanted to make certain no one used your power against us, not that he had you himself.” Bakura breathed in again, another issue occurring to him. “I think I should tell you my full name. So you can tell the two of us apart.” 

Otogi made a slightly confused noise and Bakura smiled. “You’ll see when we meet him. But I’m Bakura Ryou.” A moment of silence. “You can call me Ryou, when it’s just us.” He hadn’t given that concession to anyone, ever. He hadn’t ever thought he would. 

“I see.” Otogi murmured the words against the back of Bakura’s neck. “Then, you can call me Ryuuji.” 

Bakura tasted the word on his lips. “Ryuuji.” Otogi Ryuuji. It fit, very well indeed. 

At the utterance of the name, the djinn groaned softly, nuzzling a little more against him. “Don’t say it too often. Names have power for a djinn.” 

He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t often mischievous, but just this once, perhaps… “Ryuuji.” 

It took longer than they’d thought to arrive at the ruined temple. And longer still for Ryuuji and Ryou to untangle themselves from one another, and for Otogi and Bakura to start off on a path together that would lead to matters they’d never dreamed could come true. 

But it only took one night for them to remember to have Otogi to soundproof Bakura’s quarters, after his brother complained of the noise. 

**The End**


End file.
